The first sun has turned into a moon, inciting the waves to swiftly move to the east, where nobody knows. In the ocean, the burblings of water against the hull of a pink rowboat are unheard, thanks to the noises of a slapdash hazel-eyed youth.
"Mmmm..."
Whimpers filled with tears leave Shinji. Although he is stoic toward the pain caused by his illness —mostly around others—, he is sensitive, when it concerns external pains.
Gritting his teeth, he looks at his hands without palms. How can a Reverend like him, harm himself when experimenting on his Tama? Won't he be the greatest fool in history, after this?
As his skin pales at the loss of his raspberry-red blood, the young man lays on the boat, motionless for a few seconds, without doing a thing.
Soon, the boat vibrates thanks to Shinji quivering. Also, thanks to his sickness increasing the blood he has, Shinji won't die, and has to endure the pain.
'Inanima Res... bring me back my palms...'
